


The Half-Hitch

by Sidneystarr



Series: Nontradtional A/B/O dynamics [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Amputation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Brainwashing, Breeding, Cuntboy, Depression, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gore, Graphic miscarriage, Happy Ending, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intersex, Intersex Character, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mindbreak, Mindbroken, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Tentacle Rape, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Whump, hurt/, non con pelvic exam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidneystarr/pseuds/Sidneystarr
Summary: Cecil Lionheart's endured so much in his short life. Now free from the shadows of his past, all the scarred omega wants to do is live a simple and comfortable life with his friends and family. Things take a turn South when he finds a young, gestating Alpha unceremoniously thrown into the inner city dumpsters, left to die of hypothermia. Will Cecil be able to stay free from the demons that haunt his past while uncovering the dark secrets of the strange and twisted world of Ninurta where Omegas live as caged slaves?It’s a strange and twisted world where a case of mistaken identity leads to a massive plot to uncover a conspiracy that runs deep into the very fabric of Nintura’s strictly hierarchical society.Edit: porting over of half hitch to smutty nontradtional abo dynamics in progress.
Relationships: Original Character & Original Character, Original Character/Other(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Nontradtional A/B/O dynamics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590811
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	1. Dumping grounds

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Hi! Welcome to my A/B/O dynamic story. I've decided to take some creative liberty with the A/B/O dynamics, whilst keeping to the dynamic somewhat. There's two sexes in this novella, male and female while A/B/O refer to dominance hierarchies displayed, independent of their biological sex. Something like a sex/gender distinction. Omegas can mimic Alpha behavior and scent but only to some extent. It's important to note that soulmates and bonding do not exist but the notion of soulmates have been perpetuated as a Omegaist (is that the word) stereotype and a once-bonded Omega is considered 'used goods'.
> 
> Approximately 2-5% of all females are born with a syndrome called Partial Estrogen Insensitivity Syndrome wherein they do not respond to estrogen well. They are raised by betas as men, and look and act like men. Their social status is not good and they aren't treated well. Alpha PEIS sufferers lack the Alpha female's pseudo penis and can easily be mistaken for castrated Omegas. It's important they never lose their ID cards to avoid being misidentified as an Omega.
> 
> This work is inspired by embercookie’s omega Shen Ju series, especially ‘you ruined everything’. Go check her out!

Cecil the Fearless hadn't really banked on running out of cider, especially during the frigid winter months as The Forlorn gathered around his cramped table in his dingy basement apartment. They were just about to reach the Kingdom of Ethuil, swords drawn and shields bared as the cold winter air nipped at their cheeks.

"Damnit Cecil!" Roy said, emptying the last of the pear cider into his glass, shaking the bottle in a futile attempt to retrieve a few more drops of the golden drink.

"Of all times to run out of cider, today's the day!"

Cecil rolled his eyes, snatching the now empty bottle of drink from the Alpha's muscular paw and tossing it into the trash with an unceremonious clunk.

"Stop being dramatic Roy, I'll go get some more. The corner store's still open." Cecil said, grabbing his wallet as he thumbed through the creased bills in the snakeskin wallet before pulling out a tenner. Ignoring his very large and very dramatic friend's complaints, Cecil reached for his bomber jacket on his nightstand, accidentally knocking over two miniatures and a brass dragon figurine in the process.

He walked with quick short steps, the chilly January air nipping at his cheeks. It was dark out at this time of the day, most people had either retreated to the comfort of their heated homes or the welcoming arms of their pack mates. Cecil's ears twitched as a breeze whistled past the tips of his ears, chilling their curled edges. Life hadn't been easy for the young man, Daze was a rough district in a rough part of the city and Cecil didn't have much to his name. Still, he was grateful for the independence offered, to be able to walk around unrestrained, to have his own place, to make decisions for himself – hell even the simple act of being able to decide what to wear and what to eat for himself were privileges that many people, especially alphas took for granted. He neared the convenience store now, the normally pristine windows were now sealed shut with wooden planks, broken glass crunching under his feet. Something wasn't right. His senses pricked up in alarm as he caught a whiff of the rank odor of blood and the nauseating stench of a panicked pack mate.

The putrid odor of the alarm signal had sent all of his senses into overdrive, alarms blaring in his head as his hackles raised, body geared itself for a confrontation, just like those he'd known as a kid. He could feel his heart slam into his ribcage and his vision narrowed. Shit. Something bad had gone down. He shouldn't have been much of a stranger to this, a life spent fighting and clawing his way out to some semblance of freedom and autonomy had primed his senses to any form of conflict. Creeping around the corner of the convenience store and taking care not to cut himself on the broken glass, Cecil followed the rank stench of blood and fear to the back of the store. The smell was overpowering now, coming from the heaps of trash that overflowed from the dumpster. A thin trail of blood trickled down the dumpster, the odor made Cecil gag involuntarily as he walked closer to the dumpster.

_Shit. It was dumping night._

If he hadn't found this... thing in the bins, it would've most likely been compacted into trash as Cecil and his Alpha pack mates would've gotten tipsy off of a night of Dungeons and Dragons and pear cider. Forcing down hot and bitter bile, Cecil flung the lid of the dumpster open. The person, if it were even alive at this point, had been unceremoniously flung into the dumpster headfirst. He'd been dressed in a light cotton shirt and shorts, the blue cotton now stained red with blood. Black bruises littered his legs and trademark rope burns encircled his neck. His left ankle was swollen, most probably sprained.

Cecil walked over to the person nervously, trying to suppress alarm bells in the back of his head as he placed his hand on his chest. _At least he's breathing._ He muttered to himself. The male was most likely an escaped Omega slave, chased down and beaten to an inch of his life before being left to freeze to death in the streets of Ninurta. He tried to shake the male, trying desperately to suppress any scent he could produce; he knew all too well the fear of an Omega when assaulted with a variety of strange scents. He barely stirred as Cecil shook him, eyes briefly flickering open as he fixed his gaze on the young man. He clearly wasn't from Ninurta, deep brown eyes, stared back at him, wavy dark hair a stark contrast to softly tanned skin. The person struggled in his grip weakly, his body clearly exhausted from the horrendous beating he'd endured.

Cecil could feel rage boiling in the pits of his stomach; he'd long spoke out against the horrific treatment of Omegas at the hands of Alpha handlers, the lack of rights, the 'golden cage', the brothels and the very idea of owning a living, sapient human being. He'd forced himself to suppress his rage, the spicy scent had alerted the man somewhat, causing him to stir in his arms.

He'd pressed his nose into his trash-scented hair, purring gently into his hair in a furtive attempt to comfort him. He could feel a low, deep rumble in his chest and tried to mimic an Alpha's purrs the best he could. It wouldn't be as good as an Alpha's, but Cecil hoped that he could soothe the shivering male in his arms. He'd relaxed only so slightly in Cecil's grip, his body releasing the faint scent of vanilla and musk.

"Okay, let's get you somewhere safe." Cecil said, fumbling in his pockets for his mobile phone. He knew his friends, all Alphas, would've been at his house right now. This wouldn't do. All the Alphas, despite being well-meaning individuals would've probably scared the poor Omega shitless. The last thing he needed right now was a petrified slave Omega alerting the apartment to his existence.

_Roy_

_Cecil you back yet?_

_Nah man somethings gone down cant tell you what but you guys got to go home_

_What tf do you mean?_

_Just go Roy and tell them somethings come up_

_Cecil..._

_Please? We can do this another day just not today_

_Okay but you owe me one_

Cecil slid his phone back into his back pocket, removing his bomber jacket and wrapping it around the boy. He was injured but still of a healthy height and weight, clearly not someone who'd lived a life of slavery or servitude. He scooped the man up, carrying him piggyback on his back. He was lighter than he seemed, his head lolling submissively against the crook of his neck as he nuzzled into the back of his neck. Not like he’d be able to smell anything, the illegal suppressants Cecil used religiously masked any trace of a scent. Snow had begun to fall now, the tiny snowflakes dotting the boy's hair with specks of white, a contrast to the ebony of his mane.

As Cecil rounded the corner to his house, he made sure to take an alternative route down the alleyways. He had to ensure all the Alphas had vacated the house, while he trusted his friends with his life he'd experienced what an Omega in heat could do to a pack of Alphas. He had to keep the boy safe though, frightened Omegas had the tendency to bolt when startled. Laying him against the steps of the backdoor to his apartment, Cecil opened the door to his house.

The apartment had been vacated in a rush, no doubt due to Roy's help. Trash covered the floor of the apartment as old clothes, empty cider bottles and dice littered the tables and chairs. At least they'd gone, no doubt leaving a huge mess in their wake. He turned his attention to the boy, who had begun to stir by now, crawling aimlessly around in the cold outside his apartment.

"No, no not here. It's gonna be cold. Come." Cecil scooped the male up in his arms, his light body snug in his arms. He carried him into the messy apartment, kicking aside any piles of clothing as he set him down on the floor. Unlacing his sneakers, he kicked them off into a corner. He could do housecleaning tomorrow. The boy was fully awake now, staring at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He lacked apparent fear in his eyes, nor did he possess the characteristic submission scents that most Omegas would release upon meeting a stranger.

He leaned into him, hoisting him up by his hips, pressing his nose into the boy's neck as a display of comfort. He'd caught a whiff of another scent among the rank of day old trash and blood. A musky, rosy scent not unlike that of an unmated Alpha, signaling dominance and aggression. Cecil flinched, primal instincts flaring in him as he resisted the urge to prostrate himself before the boy.

"Can you stand?" He asked, a reassuring arm wrapped around his hips.

"Yes... I think sprained my ankle though." His voice was hoarse yet sweetly melodic, the gentle tones sending shivers down Cecil's spine.

"Alright. Let me run you a bath. We'll head off to the pharmacy tomorrow and get your wounds treated.”

He'd moved away from his neck, trying his best to ignore the intoxicating smell of tea roses. The smell was reawakening old impulses in him, impulses that he'd struggled against for most of his short, painful life. Unsure if leaving him alone in the living room would've been a good idea, Cecil scooped the boy up in his arms and carried him to the bathroom with him. He'd felt like putty in his arms, not resisting as he picked the man up and laid him down on the cool marble tiles of the bathroom, his heartbeat slow yet steady in his chest. He'd laid placidly on the bathroom floor as he ran him a bath, the Lilly scented bath wash enveloping the bath in a thin layer of white foam.

He clearly wasn't an Omega, based on the intoxicating scent that he gave off, an Omega wouldn't been able to induce such a reaction from Cecil, as much as he'd hated to admit it – the scent stirred up unpleasant memories he'd liked to bury away for the rest of his life. That made him either a Beta or an Alpha, but Betas didn't produce such powerful scents and he'd never heard of Beta slaves before. But Alphas – Cecil almost felt his heart skip a beat. Gritting his teeth, Cecil forced down a familiar twinge, starting first in his belly, the warmth radiating down his abdomen as it settled in the pit of his stomach making his dick twitch. He was _not_ stooping to that level again. He was free. He was in control. He was Cecil Lionheart.

Testing the warmth of the bath with the tips of his fingers, Cecil helped the boy up, resting him against the sink.

"Hey," Cecil whispered, trying to keep his voice low and gentle so as not to startle the boy.

"The bath is ready." He gestured to the steaming bath.

"I'll give you some privacy. I'll be outside if you need me."

The boy hesitated, his eyes downcast as if he'd been unable to look him in the eyes. He nodded, turning his back to Cecil as he stripped of the thin cotton clothing.

The boy had taken his time in the bath, leaving Cecil alone in his messy apartment alone with his thoughts. The boy clearly wasn't an Omega from the scents he produced and the lack of submission pheromones, neither was he a beta; betas didn't release scents and were, for the most part, pacifistic. That only left the possibility of Alpha, which made the attack on the boy even more perplexing. Alphas were top dog in Ninurta, occupying most of the upper echelons of society an unprovoked attack on an Alpha would've been grounds for harsh punishments and maybe even an unprovoked lynching. The only explanation was that he'd offended an Alpha a rank higher than him and had been so much as unceremoniously dumped into the garbage disposal with the day's garbage.

A thin beam of light cut through the darkness startling Cecil from his thoughts. Cecil hadn't noticed the time – he'd been sitting on his bed for nearly an hour. The boy was wiping his feet on the bath mat, towel wrapped around his waist. He was a small man, barely out of his teens with a lean and trim build and a delicate bone structure.

"How're you feeling?" Cecil said.

"I'm... alright. Or at least I think I should be." The kid remained where he was, as if he didn't trust Cecil to not hurt him. Cecil recognized the flash of fear in his eyes, the boy shrinking away when Cecil attempted to reach out towards him.

"Pardon me for asking but," Cecil paused, he wasn't sure if it would be safe to approach such a sensitive topic when he'd just met the boy. "How did you end up in the dumpster?" The boy stiffened up visibly, drawing the towel closer around his petite frame.

"Stuff." His reply was short and curt. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Right." Cecil knew it would've been hard for the young man to open up about such a sensitive subject. He inched closer towards the young man, releasing a soft yet reassuring scent of lavender. _I will not hurt you. What you have endured is past._ "Let's get you someplace to sleep in. You must be tired."


	2. Medicine

The man had fallen asleep quickly, snoring softly in an improvised nest that Cecil had managed to set up in the living room. Cecil however, couldn’t sleep, pacing circles around his kitchen. He was sure he’d wore a hole in his tiles by now from his frantic pacing but his anxiety wouldn’t let up, thoughts racing through his head. Where did that boy come from, who had left him there and most importantly, who’d decided to beat him to within an inch of his life and leave him to freeze to death in the dumpster? Damnit! Cecil swore under his breath, kicking a nearby trash can. He was a ball of fucking nerves, like a tightly coiled spring. With trembling hands, Cecil slammed down a shot of whiskey before making his way back to the living room.

The man slept soundly, a mess of tangled limbs in the fort of pillows and blankets. Cecil moved slowly to avoid disturbing the man as he bent down to check him over for any further injuries. He’d been lucky to escape mostly uninjured a sprained ankle and some bruises, his assailants assuming that he’d perish from hypothermia. Cecil glanced at him, searching him for any identifying marks, tattoos or brands that might’ve indicated his pack or rank but found none spare for a few generic looking tattoos that adorned his body. He seemed to be the artsy sort, someone who enjoyed bodily modifications and the sort, as evidenced by the numerous tattoos and long, curly hair. He’d removed the filthy, blood-soaked clothing when he’d finished bathing, instead choosing to wear an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. Even though it’d been slightly oversized, the baby-blue fabric swallowed the man up, relaxing him enough to release a soft scent of tea rose, an antiquated scent that reminded Cecil of his past. 

The scent was intoxicating and it took Cecil nearly all of his willpower to resist burying his face into the crook of the man’s neck and inhaling. Steeling himself, Cecil pulled away from him. He wouldn’t appreciate a strange man sniffing around in his personal bubble, especially after such a traumatic experience. There was a faint scent that the man gave off, not quite like that of copper. Cecil assumed the man was still bleeding slightly and that the smell would fade away tomorrow morning. Cecil picked up the discarded blanket, pulling it back over the young pack mate’s chest as he tucked him in tight. He’d work on some editorial columns and grab some alcohol to drink, the infallible combination of alcohol intoxication and human stupidity usually did him in.

Cecil had spent the night typing furiously on his laptop, there were so many typos and so many idiots at this time of the night. He typed until his vision swam, pausing only to take a swig of the bottle of whiskey on his desk. As the night wore on, Cecil could feel his eyes grow heavy, his fingers heavier, and his vision blur to the point he couldn’t tell an I from an O. Groaning, he laid his head down on his desk, closing his weary eyes for what he’d hope was just a short rest.

Cecil was jolted awake by the characteristically shrill whines of a panicked pack mate. Groggy and disoriented from a night spent drunk in between a stack of papers and his desk, Cecil rubbed bloodshot eyes, staggering to his feet.  
“What is it?” he yelled. No response, except for the panicked whines of the kid he’d brought home last night.

“Are you hungry?” Cecil paused for a response. 

“In rut?” He added when he received none. 

The poor kid was probably just slightly disoriented and spaced out from his ordeal, nothing a cup of hot chocolate and a warm breakfast couldn’t fix. He sauntered into the living room, tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie.

The first thing that hit him had been the smell. It was putrid, a mixture of a calving cow, sulfur and rancid cheese. Strong enough to make Cecil retch and cover his mouth in an expression of disgust. Jesus Christ, the kid must’ve gotten a staph infection or something from the garbage dump based on the way he’d been wailing.

“Hey, you alright kid?” He said, rushing over to the kid. 

The kid didn’t respond, clutching his abdomen tightly as he rolled around on the living room floor. He seemed to be in incredible amounts of pain, skin pale and sticky with a sheen of sweat. His face contorted in an unreadable expression.

“Are you okay?” Cecil said, a little firmer this time, gripping onto the kid’s left shoulder and squeezing tightly. The young man shook his head, pushing his head into Cecil’s left thigh. 

“No…” He wheezed. “I just woke up like this.” He gestured to his stomach.

Cecil stripped off the layers of sheets that swaddled the man, tearing through them with sharpened claws. The man’s stomach looked just fine, his abdomen lacked the characteristic swelling of an infection and his skin wasn’t feverish or flushed. He poked the kid’s abdomen lightly, testing for signs of pain. A poke to his sternum didn’t seem to faze the man, neither did one to his liver but a light jab in his pelvis earned him a nip.

The smell had intensified at this point and being in the presence of the kid was seriously making Cecil consider bringing along a gas mask. He stank to high heavens, the rancid odor permeating the bedsheets and pillows. Cecil had also started to notice a widening red splotch on the crotch of his sweatpants, the redness a stark contrast to the baby-blue of his sweatpants. 

Cecil felt the breath hitch in the back of his throat. A drop. The man was dropping, almost definitely from the stress of being beaten and thrown into a dumpster. The young man had started screaming now, biting down on his hand to muffle his screams as Cecil struggled to keep him upright. Cecil was at a loss of what to do; he’d never handled a dropping pack mate before, but the Omega rooms back at the breeding facility handled daily drops. He tried to jog his fragmented memory for drop procedures; was he supposed to nest the wailing Alpha or did that come after staunching the bleeding? His living room floor had become stained with a growing puddle of blood and endometrial tissue, his bed sheets all but commissioned to the incinerator after the man had dropped, if he could even survive it. The boy screamed again, frantically trying to peel off his blood-soaked pants as the powerful contractions wracked his body. 

Cecil rushed to grab his mobile phone, hastily punching in Roy’s number as he paced anxiously around the dropping Alpha. Out of all people around, surely Roy would’ve known what to do right? Roy had been sleeping, the gigantic Alpha slept like a rock and nothing short of a hurricane could wake him up. Cecil tried dialing his number several times, each time getting only the faint beep of his answering machine. Exasperated, Cecil gave up, flinging the useless object onto the couch. He would have to do this himself. 

Retrieving a set of old towels from his bathroom cabinet, Cecil spread them out under the dropping Alpha so that he’d have a place to birth the pup. The Alpha seemed to bear down instinctively, grinding his teeth together with every contraction. Cecil wasn’t sure if he was supposed to help the kid or leave him to his own devices, gently stroking his hair in an attempt to comfort him. The kid had sat up on his makeshift bed, propped up by the pillows of the nest in a squatting position, His face flushed, breathing out in short, heavy gasps. Leaning in to Cecil’s touch, the kid bore down, forcing the contents of his uterus onto the makeshift bed.

The fetus was small and malformed, resembling something of a cross between a gremlin and a monkey. It had still been attached to its mother’s placenta, the umbilical cord pulsating with the Alpha’s pulse as it lead up the vaginal canal and into his uterus. The thing squirmed, writhing around in a death throw in a desperate attempt to return to the womb. It opened its mouth, trying to take in air, tiny, undeveloped lungs straining to take in oxygen. It squirmed, choking on amniotic fluid as it flopped helplessly on the sheets.

Cecil stared blankly at the dying pup in the mess of blankets. There, in front of him an Alpha had just dropped. Gathering the pup up in the blankets, Cecil wrapped the baby, passing the tiny pup to its mother. The smell of drop had begun to subside, and in its presence came the cloyingly sweet aroma of rotting flesh. The Alpha ripped the pup out of Cecil’s arms, cradling it protectively in his arms as he nuzzled his face into the child’s neck. 

Cecil had spent the next few minutes in a daze, the man making soft crooning noises as he held the dying pup in his arms. The pup had struggled to breathe at first, choking and gasping as its lungs tried desperately to fill with air. It’s breathing had become progressively more labored, irregular and inconsistent as it forced in gasps of air into deflating lungs. It’d laid there, exhausted as its eyes swelled shut. Eventually, the pup’s breathing stopped, it’s jaw slacking as the rhythmic rise and fall of the infant’s chest ceased. The man just sat there, motionless as he watched his pup die.

Roy rapped on Cecil’s door, trying to get the man’s attention. He’d been rudely woken up by several missed calls and a frantic answering machine message about blood. Cecil had the habit of wandering off into strange places at night, waking up and calling his friends in a panic. When he’d received no response, Roy fished around the flowerpot outside of Cecil’s house, pulling out a tiny silver key.

Cecil really needed to find new hiding spots for his keys, Roy concluded. The Alpha hadn’t been able to keep anything alive and the neat little flowerpot stood out like a sore thumb amongst the unorganized mess of discarded motorbike parts, scrap metal and empty liquor bottles. Inserting the key into the lock, Roy pushed the door open.

When Cecil had talked about blood, Roy had assumed that Cecil had cut himself up badly or fucked an Omega so hard that she’d bleed on the covers. He hadn’t expected to walk headfirst into what had appeared to be a young man, cradling a dead pup in his hands. The room reeked of a calving animal, mixed in with the alarm pheromones of an infant and the noxious odor of blood. The young man, by now completely soaked in blood lay motionless in a corner. Roy felt bile rise up in his throat, clamping a hand across his face to avoid throwing up. The odor was simply horrendous. Cecil was sitting on the edge of a makeshift nest, holding the young man firmly in his arms as he stared blankly at Roy.

“What the hell did you do dumbass!” Roy yelled, running over to grab Cecil by his T-shirt collar.

“I saved him.” Cecil’s voice was flat and monotone, the only betrayal of his mental state being the trembling of his lightly muscled body. 

“No you didn’t! You, you might've just killed a man!” Roy pointed an accusatory finger to the bed where the young man lay in a rapidly widening puddle of blood on the yellow bedspread. 

The man looked worse than when Roy had come in, his face a deathly pallor as he held tightly onto his pup as if it’d cost him his life to let go. The blood had soaked through his pants, now coating the entirety of the sheets as he struggled to stay awake. He panted, breathing shallow and laborious. 

“Enough about that nonsense.” Roy’s voice was firm and commanding, causing Cecil to shrink back a little in his seat. “Let’s call the ambulance. Our friend looks like he’s experiencing a drop.”

The ambulance had arrived in minutes, almost as if they’d been tipped off to the dropping man prior to Roy’s arrival. They’d loaded the young man onto the stretcher, pulling him into the back of the ambulance. He’d refused to let go of the dead pup, clinging on desperately to it even as they had tried to pry the two apart. Defeated, they’d settled on wrapping the pup in a white sheet of cloth next to him, causing the man to release his grip on his pup. They’d left, speeding off in the direction of the Memorial Hospital leaving Cecil and Roy alone in the stinking house.

Roy rubbed his temples, plopping down onto the only presentable seat in Cecil’s house at the moment, an old rickety chair that’d been broken thrice and repaired twice. Cecil hadn’t moved from his seat on the bedspread, still soaked in what appeared to be a mixture of blood and endometrial tissue. He stared blankly at Roy, prompting the Alpha to reach over and shake him.

“You okay man?” Roy’s voice had taken on a characteristic tone, like that of a higher ranking Alpha trying to soothe his pack mates. No response.

“Cecil?” Roy repeated, this time with a firmer voice. Cecil didn’t budge, choosing to stare out of a nearby window. Roy shook Cecil again, harder this time as he tried to suss out a response from the guy, who seemed to be trapped in an alternate dimension. 

“It was my fault wasn’t it?” Cecil’s voice was low, hoarse from dehydration. For a moment, Roy wondered how long Cecil had sat there, just holding the young man.

“No… Cecil I- “Roy began, cut off abruptly by Cecil tackling him.

“Yes it was! I laid there and let him die!” Cecil was yelling now, in between swipes directed at the larger man. 

However, Cecil’s swipes were weak and driven more by desperation and shame than genuine anger. Roy grabbed hold of Cecil’s wrists, pinning them to the ground as he rolled off the seat. The man thrashed, struggling against the large Alpha.

“Let me go you knothead!” Cecil screamed, struggling in the shorter man’s grip. Roy used his smaller size to his advantage, easily dodging the taller man’s desperate swipes.

“Not until you calm down Cecil.” Roy growled, pushing his weight into Cecil, the taller man forced face forwards into the filthy, beer-strained couch. Cecil whined, the sound low and pathetic as he felt the resistance slip from his psyche. As pack leader, Roy’s command words were capable of subduing even the toughest of his pack mates. 

They’d stood there, with Cecil’s face pressed into the couch for what seemed like forever. Eventually, Cecil calmed down, his breathing becoming normal as the trembling in his hands and body stopped. 

“Right,” Roy said, slumping into the stained couch as he released his hold on Cecil. “Mind telling me about what just happened?”


	3. White Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inverted flowerpot symbol is actually the Omega symbol, there dosent seem to be any form of standardisation when it comes to Omega symbols except for an 'O'. Cecil dosen't know because the hospitals he'd been in don't use this symbol.

Ming Sheng awoke to a buzzing sound, biting at the edge of his consciousness. Forcing bloodshot eyes open, he sat up slowly on his bed. He must’ve passed out after losing all the blood and someone must’ve taken him to the hospital. Instinctively, hands trailed down to his abdomen, stroking the now empty space where his pup had been. A pang of regret rushed through him; his pup had been stolen from him, ejected prematurely from the womb and left to die in his arms.

The soft beeping of the door opening jolted Ming Sheng from his thoughts. Two Nurses, one portly dressed and the other tall and thin like a bird walked in. They’d walked over to his bedside, checking his vitals and the patient notes chart.

“You alright darling? Holding up okay after what just happened?” The thin nurse’s voice was soft and sweet.

I Guess?” Ming Sheng wasn’t used to the level of sweetness from pack mates; thinly veiled or outright aggression was much more common.

“That’s very good. We’re glad you’re coping alright. Me and Agatha,” the thin nurse gestured to the fat one, “will come back to check on you later today. Rest well!”

The Nurses left, leaving Ming Sheng to marinate in his thoughts alone in the dimly lit hospital room.

This hospital room was different from the ones he’d been in before, the walls cream-coloured and the bed a huge, four poster canopy bed. He’d been buried in between a sea of pillows, under layers of soft sheets - sandwiched against a thick duvet and a memory foam mattress. It was soft and enveloping, almost uncomfortably so.

“What do you mean that I can’t go see him?” Cecil said, brows furrowed with frustration as he glared at the attending nurse.

“I’m afraid not Mr. Lionheart. In order to preserve our patient’s modesty, no visitors are allowed in the Recovery Ward.” The nurse replied, fiddling anxiously with her clipboard. 

“And why the hell not?” Cecil questioned, an accusatory glare in his eyes.

“Unbonded pack mates tend to scare our patients sir. I’ll have to request that you wait outside until the patient is ready to be discharged.” The nurse whispered, her voice barely rising a decibel as she looked away from Cecil.

Cecil huffed, walking away from the frightened mouse of a nurse. Some new ward regulations must’ve been put in place in the time he’d last been admitted, he’d never heard of a hospital ward that was closed off to all visitors except for mates. For a moment he considered going home; the man almost certainly had a mate and family who were probably looking for him. A found person alert would’ve been sent out and they wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger standing at their mate’s bedside.

Still he’d go check up on the man before leaving. He was probably scared and confused and could use a shoulder to lean on, at least till his mate arrived. 

The rusted down lock broke open with a few well-placed strikes, rusty chain link fencing creaking open to reveal a densely forested dirt road that led into a pristine white building. For all of Nintura’s sleek architecture and commitment to cleanliness they tended to miss out on the things people wouldn’t see, leaving sprawling dirt paths to rusted backdoors that a well-trained escape artist could take advantage of.

A triumphant smirk dancing at the corners of his lips, Cecil strolled down the dirt path, whistling a simple tune as he drank in his surroundings. The specialist recovery ward was adjacent to the main building, flanked by maternity and the incinerator. It’d been hidden by lush green foliage to provide privacy to its patients away from the main wards. The door to the ward had come open easily, left unlocked by its careless caretaker who’d slept in a corner with his hat perched precariously atop his head.

The first thing Cecil noticed about this ward was its scent, or rather the lack thereof. It’d smelled like a whole load of nothing, as if scent blockers were purposely used to mask any trace of scent. The corridor walls had been painted a soft cream shade, volumous curtains obscuring the outside world from the hospital’s interior. The room doors were labelled with a pink symbol, shaped like little pink inverted flowerpot, the centre of the flowerpot bearing the room’s number and its occupants name in a small digitalized placard. The rooms seemed to only open inwards, a ubiquitous white keycard reader locking the door from Cecil. There seemed to be ten floors to this building, all lined with doors of similar styles, the only difference between the doors being their number and patient name.

Cecil hadn’t a clue which floor the young man had been placed in and the scent blocker soaps made the task even harder. He searched around for a directory, eventually finding a small digitized board mounted on the wall. The newfangled thing seemed to be made out of a leather-bound board as if the hospital had tried to smooth out any harsh edges in the ward. He fiddled with the board, looking around for a switch. Surely there had to be some way to turn this strange gadget on right?

“Good afternoon Sir!” A high-pitched voice nearly made Cecil bolt, hairs standing on the back of his neck. “How may I be of assistance?

Cecil spun around, coming face to face with a diminutive creature. The creature was shaped like a dog of indeterminate breed, its body made out of a round ball of fiberglass, covered head to paw in soft white fur spare for a little black visor that exposed a screen in place of its eyes

“What the hell are you?” Cecil stammered, bringing a hand to his chest to stabilize the pounding in his chest.

“I am Virtual Assistant No. 0333. Would you require,” The robot paused, cocking its head to the left. “A. A warm meal, B. pack mate support or C. A guide?”

“I think you could bring me to his, I mean my room.” Cecil tried.

“What is, A. Your name or, B. Your room number?” The robot said, bringing up a little hologram of a keypad that floated slightly above its head.

“Uh…” Cecil began, realizing that he hadn’t asked for the man’s name nor did he know his room number. The man looked like he had been a foreigner, most likely a Dark Easterner judging by his long wavy hair. Cecil wracked his brain, trying desperately to think up of a name that suited the young man. He seemed like a Xiao Yang, or a Ming Hua? No too formal. Maybe Ming, Ming something?

“Ming, uh Ming?” Cecil tried.

“I am sorry. There are no patients under the name, Ming Ming. Perhaps you meant Ming Sheng?” The robot said, pulling up the image of a young man with a shock of wavy, dark hair and lightly tanned skin.

“Ah yeah! Ming… Sheng! Yeah that’s hi- I mean me.” Cecil caught the slip up in time, pointing at the man displayed on the Robot’s UI.

“Escorting patient to room, 278.” The robot said, marching off in the direction of the lifts.

The robot brought Cecil down many twisting corridors, the walls painted a uniform shade of cream. Every single floor appeared to have the same uniformly plush curtains, the identical doors all bearing the pink inverted flowerpot. The inverted flowerpot reminded Cecil of something familiar, something that he’d seen before but he couldn’t place its purpose. Maybe it’d been a stylistic choice?

Room 278 had been tucked away in a secluded corridor away from the main hall, right in the corner of the room. The robot had scanned the keycard scanner with its face, causing the door to open with a beep.

“I hope you have found my performance satisfactory. For greater customer satisfaction awareness, please rate my performance out of five stars.” A little display popped up, prompting Cecil to select from one out of five stars.

“Err, alright then. Five stars it is.” Cecil punched in the command for five stars.

“Thank you. Do you require more assistance?” 

“No, that’ll be fine.” Cecil said, using his foot to shoo the robot out of the room.

The young man that he met last night, or Ming Sheng as he’d been called had been staring out the window, seemingly lost in his own world. The sound of the door slamming shut startled him, causing him to whirl around in alarm. 

“Oh it’s you.” He said, voice dripping with venom.

“I have a name, it’s Cecil.” Cecil replied, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head

“Come on, don’t be so cold. Just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing.” Cecil folded his arms, looking at Ming Sheng. “By the looks of it you bled like a stuck pig.” 

The Alpha ignored him, trailing a hand absentmindedly down to his abdomen, stroking tan flesh underneath printed hospital pajamas.

“Hey I’m talking to you right now.” Cecil repeated, louder and more aggressively this time. Still radio silence.

“Jeez, did the Doctors take away your kid and your ability to speak?” 

A low growl picked up in the back of the Alpha’s throat, a warning to step back. Cecil felt a lump rise in his throat, reflexively backing away from the growling Alpha.

“You really are a piece of work Cecil.” He snarled, advancing in on the taller Omega. Anger bristled in his every step, his eyes dilating as the fine hairs on his arms stood on their ends.

“First, you have the nerve to come in here like you own the place,” the man stepped forward. “Then you kill my pup.” Another step forward. “Finally, you ask me out of all things,” the man’s voice rose a pitch as he shoved Cecil against the bed. “If the doctors removed not only my kid and my ability to talk!” The last word came out as a hiss, Ming Sheng’s razor sharp fangs dangerously close to Cecil’s exposed neck.

Cecil couldn’t breathe. The Alpha before him exuded a sort of effortless dominance that Cecil could only begin to emulate in his dreams, the characteristic scent of tea rose again, cloyingly sweet as a Low growl rose from the back of the man’s throat. Almost as if on command, Cecil felt himself sink down onto the plush sized bed, negating the five-inch height gap he had over the young Alpha.

Something flared inside of Cecil, the need to dominate despite his Omegan status. Growling, Cecil rose to the challenge. He forced himself upright from his position on the bed, jabbing a finger into Ming Sheng’s chest. 

“Look, I saved your ass. If I hadn’t been there you’d have died of fucking hypothermia!” Cecil said.

“Saved my ass?” Ming Sheng growled, “You set me up in the dump of your goddamn house and almost let me bleed to death!” He moved closer to Cecil, the two pack mates now mere inches apart.

“So! You would’ve died sooner if I hadn’t found you!” Cecil retorted, shoving Ming Sheng backwards.

“Oh really now? Shoving an injured patient? You’re really good at saving people Cecil.” 

Cecil sensed a burning at the back of his head, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he resisted the urge to punch the man in front of him. It wouldn’t look good on him to be caught red-handed assaulting an Alpha. Gritting his teeth, he forced the fiercest glare he could muster through the heady stench of the Alpha’s pheromones.

“You ungrateful slut.” He snarled, hands clenched into tight fists. “Go then. See if I care about you and your filthy rape baby.” 

The strike to his jaw was sudden and left Cecil unprepared for what came next. The smaller Alpha pounced, knocking Cecil back onto the plush bed. Even in a weakened state, the Alpha's natural strength and aggression overwhelmed Cecil, causing the tall Omega to yelp as Ming Sheng rained blow after blow onto him.

“You bastard!” He screamed, wrapping his hands around Cecil’s bite-scarred neck. “How dare you call my baby a rape baby!” His grip was like iron, choking the breath out of the Omega, almost crushing his windpipe in the process. He barely registered the sharp pain of the Alpha’s nails dragging down his neck, the edges of his vision blurring a dark blue as his consciousness began to slip. He gasped, the tips of his fingers numb with oxygen deprivation. He tried to fight the Alpha’s vice-like grip but an Alpha's natural strength and control over their body far surpassed any strength he could muster. He struggled to draw breath, feeling consciousness slip from him as he fell into a dark void.

Cecil snapped awake with a jolt, sitting straight up on something soft and flat. His head hurt, and so did his arms and his legs and also his neck. Fuck, Cecil thought to himself as he rubbed the back of his scarred neck, Everything fucking hurt. He looked around, tossing the covers off of his body. He must’ve been transferred to a hospital room while passed out, the room cold and clinically white unlike the eggshell-colored walls of the wing he’d snuck into.

“Mr. Lionheart?” the timid nurse again. She walked in, fiddling with the same worn clipboard in her hands.

“What happened?” Cecil asked, voice raspy from the trauma.

“You were attacked by one of our patients Mr. Lionheart.” She replied, drawing out a bottle of pills from the steel tray.

“Patients in our wards tend to be reactive.” She murmured, emptying a dosage of pills into a white paper cup. She passed the cup to him, alongside a glass of water.

“So how long will I be here?” Cecil said swallowing the pills provided. They went down bitter and stuck to the back of his throat.

“Just a few hours Mr. Lionheart. You may go home after that.” She replied, collecting the cup that he’d passed back to her.

She left, the white room door sliding shut behind her with a resounding beep. Cecil stretched, loosening out several kinks in his joints. He flinched when he felt his hip pop against an old break, it’d been an old injury that flared up time from time; the tissue healing wrongly after many fractures. He pressed his hand against his bandaged neck, massaging the injured tissue. Making an educated guess, Cecil assumed the ward had been reserved for feral Alphas. As violent as the man had been, an Alpha going feral after the death or drop of their child wasn’t uncommon. The ward, set up away from the main building and well-guarded would’ve allowed them to recuperate in peace, away from prying eyes and distracting scents. Rolling over onto his stomach, Cecil squeezed his eyes shut. There’d still be a few more hours before he could check himself out, best pass the time with a short nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, Chaper 4 goes more in detail about Ming Sheng.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ming Sheng gets introduced to Omegas and gets enrolled in a school for wayward Omegas. He's paddlin' up shit creek with no paddle and things look like they're getting sticky fast.

Ming Sheng shivered under the bedsheets; the effects of the pheromone drugs administered to him toying with his head. An artificial sense of calm, forcing him down and onto his bed as he rolled around in it, kept his feral Alpha temper from rising one more. 

Lucky, Cecil had been lucky that they’d caught him in time before he had time to rip his fucking throat out, before he’d turned him into nothing but a blood splatter on the floor. Once they’d arrived, they’d separated Cecil from Ming Sheng, pulling Cecil out as the door auto-locked behind him. Three Alphas, all tall and strong, pulling the half-dead Omega from his room.

Unlike the other times he’d gotten into scruffles with Alphas Ming Sheng was not tied down, getting his head bashed in or slammed against a wall. Instead, one of the nurses on the ward came in, administering a dose of Haloperidol before he was wrapped up in something uncharacterizably fluffy and warm. Struggle against it as he might, the warm duvet returned softness when he tried to strike, warmth in place of Ming Sheng’s cold, practiced swipes. 

They’d left him in his room for a few hours as the effects of the drugs set in and once he were too artificially calm to resist, came back in with another set of drugs. These set of drugs smelled, not of the chemically aura of antipsychotics, but of a calming sage scent. 

Ming Sheng tried to pull away from them, but they held it to his nose, forcing him to inhale till the last of the fight left him. There they’d left him, restrained and floppy like a scruffed cat, his meals delivered to him through a tube. 

His belly ached of loss, the residual pangs of labor contractions wracking his body. Instead of little bean he’d been given a stuffed animal to hold, the little green panda looking back at him with glassy eyes. His first reaction had been to throw it against the walls, perhaps in an almost futile rebellion against his current situation. How badly did he want to feel in control again, a mechanic at the Mech Academy, not some restrained, child-like being swaddled and coddled in a mess of blankets too soft for him!

However, as he lifted the toy to toss at the wall something ran through him, the comforting fluff of the green panda filled the missing hole in his uterus. Ming Sheng couldn’t bring himself to finish the act, pulling it close to him as he pressed his face into the soft fuzz. Heated, the toy functioned as a sort of comfort device, warm unlike his pup. 

He hurt. Chest swollen into small lumps, a painful reminder of what he’d just lost. His heart, fragmented and empty, a stuffed animal the only reminder of the pup. Pushing his face into the warm cloth he inhales, holding it close against his chest. 

The painful sensation in him tore at his chest, a feeling that Ming Sheng would only begin to describe as ‘chestbursting’. He groaned, stroking the pup’s head as he felt it press against his chest. 

Liquid, a white liquid slowly began to pool on the surface of his shirt, Ming Sheng yelping as he pulls away from the toy. It smelled milky, so gross and disgusting as he ripped the panda away from his chest. 

A metaphorical representation of his heartache? Was his very heart spilling out from where it’d been pierced? Ming Sheng didn’t or perhaps couldn’t begin to express how horrid it felt. The spilling of white liquid filling his chest and dribbling down his body made him panic, and in a hurry, he pushed the call button by his bedside. 

A nurse comes quick. This one is fatter, rounder and older than the previous one. She rushes in, a tray of medical supplies with her. Noticing the panicked Ming Sheng huddled up in a corner of his bed, she quickly drops the tray as she moves over to soothe him. 

“What’s wrong honey?” She asks, warm and reassuring hands on his shoulders as she tries to uncrumple the terrified ball of Omega on his bed. 

“My… chest. It hurts… My heart spilled.” Ming Sheng only manages to mutter, gesturing frantically to his spilled-heart staining his pajama shirt. 

For a moment there’s a look of worry on her face, but the moment she spots the characteristic white splotches on his pink pajamas a knowing smile spreads across her face. 

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no need to worry. Your milk is coming in.” 

The reply confuses Ming Sheng, the young Alpha clutching the plush panda even tighter to his chest like his life depended on it. 

“That means you’ve began to lactate. See? That’s milk.” She adds, pointing to the wetness. 

Milk. The reality of it all began to set in, a horribly mind-numbing buzz forming in Ming Sheng’s ears. The nurse said something else about lactation, about how his milk was going to come in and how it would be painful with no pup to feed, but Ming Sheng wasn’t particularly interested. He’d just given birth, given birth to a dead pup no less, a pup that wasn’t with him. 

Some hands were working on him, removing his shirt and massaging the painful swellings on his chest, with it came a warm liquid that was quickly drained and filled into a bottle to be taken away for god knows what. Ming Sheng wasn’t listening, his mind elsewhere as he wandered back to the days in the academy, days spent lounging under the grass with Kieran just listening to music as they laughed and joked about better days. As the hands sterilized and cleaned his chest, Ming Sheng let himself think of the bar and all those bizarre things they’d done, imagined himself seated precariously on the stool of the cyberpunk wonder, balancing shots on his nose while Kieran flipped them into his mouth. 

It felt good, something that Ming Sheng liked feeling. Much better than the scentless room and its nurses working on his body like a foreign object. Far better than pining after little bean, better for him to just push it out his mind and drift. So drift he did, and drift he did to a place where he didn’t hurt anymore, and where things were looking up for him. 

The next few days passed in a blur; Ming Sheng left in the boredom of his cream-colored room to the mercy of medical professionals. After a few days he learnt their names, the fat one went by Helga, the skinnier one Agatha and the male was named Yan. Yan for instance, always came to do his exams, while Helga was the one who would express his milk whenever it got too full. 

Without a clock to keep track of time Ming Sheng had grew to use mealtime and medication rounds to assess the passing of time. For instance, Helga always came at 9am to give him breakfast – bland food free of salt, fat or anything fun (for his health, of course) and express what little milk he had left in him. It seemed that his body had clued into him, gradually tapering off milk production till all he would produce were a few tablespoons. 

His chest however, did not shrink back to its original size, remaining engorged and swollen. 

At 3pm Yan would come at take his vitals, deliver him lunch, and perform a pelvic exam. As much as he’d tried to resist, he didn’t have the strength in him to refuse the exam and Yan was always gentle. Random details such as the size of his cervical opening and the size of his uterus were tracked, alongside standards readings like blood pressure, height and weight. 

At 9pm Agatha would bring dinner alongside a cookie and some hot chocolate, before asking him some questions. He tried to answer them to the best of his ability, but his head always felt empty and his mind always felt light. She’d shake her head before smiling at him, patting him on the shoulder and leaving, before the lights in his room were switched off. 

He almost didn’t mind the routine if not for how boring it were. Spare a battered television there was absolutely nothing to do and watching public broadcasting didn’t exactly pass time in the most efficient way. Boredom gave him time to himself, time to think and reflect on the set of events in his life. 

The more he thought, the more his thoughts ate at his mind like the meals that he’d been given. Bland, repetitive thoughts, playing back the events of the past few days in muted repeat. 

He’d cried at first, but after the third day he’d grown numb to the crying, the loss settling like a stone in the pit of a well. His eyes grew weary from the tears and Ming Sheng found himself just laying aimlessly on his side with the green panda pressed up against his chest, thinking, waiting. 

He’d almost gotten used to the routine of the hospital when there’d been a rap on his door. A week (or so he estimated) had passed since the start of his admission and most of his milk had dried up, the bleeding from post labor lochia all but gone. He’d began to wonder if he’d lost himself to an endless routine of hospital food, daytime telly and medical examinations, assuming the knocking to be simply another nurse. 

Instead, he’d been greeted by a man in blue. Dressed in a sky-blue robe the man looked every part the Omega, high-necked collar and long sleeves exposing nothing, his face carrying with it a warm smile. Something about him made Ming Sheng feel at ease, be it his gentle demeanor or the way he carried himself, placing a gentle hand on Ming Sheng’s own as he addressed him with a bright laugh. 

“Good evening Ming Sheng. How are we feeling?” 

Ming Sheng looked at him for a while, at a loss for words. Not as for lack of what to say, but Ming Sheng just didn’t know what he’d been feeling. Everything had come on much too fast and much too soon, so all he managed to utter was a simple, ‘good’.

“It’s alright Ming Sheng, it’s alright to let your feelings out. Most of us wouldn’t be able to handle such a traumatic experience and come out unscathed. You’re strong Ming Sheng, very strong.” He replies, taking a seat on an overstuffed armchair. 

Ming Sheng muttered something inaudible. 

“That’s alright, sometimes we have strong emotions that we may not know how to express. I understand what you’ve been through, and I’m here to help.”

For a split second, anger flashed behind Ming Sheng’s eyes. How dare he! He wouldn’t have known one bit of what it’d felt like to be let down by so many people, to lose a pup or to be ripped away from his family in a split second! The Omega seems to notice it too, but appears unfazed, instead reaching an arm out and wrapping it around Ming Sheng. 

Ming Sheng struggled against it for a few seconds, considered shrugging it off. Still, the warm of human touch was a huge relief compared to the artificial warmth provided to him and Ming Sheng felt himself leaning in. The most touch he’d received from when he were admitted, it was admittedly comforting and Ming Sheng liked that.

“Help… with what?”

That’s right, what could he even begin to help with? After all this shitshow of a shitcreek, Ming Sheng had essentially been paddling his way up shit creek sans paddle, what would some self-entitled Omega possibly help with?

“Your new life. I understand things might be hard now, but getting adjusted to life as an Omega after living your life as a Beta or even Alpha might be confusing, scary even, but I know how it feels like. I’m here to help you with any problems or pressing questions you might have.” 

Rage bubbled under Ming Sheng’s skin, what could this pretentious little twit know? He tried to push him away, shoo him away, anything to get rid of his sappiness and his romanticism, but he just couldn’t. Either the antipsychotics or the suppressant drugs worked their magic on his brain, and Ming Sheng found himself making a little sound of irritation. 

“I understand, when they first brought me in, I was a wild one, hard to control and completely out of it! I kept trying to bite my handlers because I assumed I were a Beta and I didn’t belong here. It took me so long to learn how not to be afraid. The beginning will be tough, but eventually you’ll learn to get used to your life as an Omega.”

“But I’m not…” Ming Sheng begins, at a loss for words.

“I’m not an Omega.” 

The counsellor nods.

“Well that was what I thought too, even after they showed me the tests. I didn’t believe that I was one, the most rebellious student in the whole school they sent me to. I were there for three years and had to re-learn almost everything about being me. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be much, much easier for you, won’t it Eliza?”  
His deadname made Ming Sheng freeze in place. If it weren’t for the drugs he were given he’d probably toss the stupid counsellor aside, punch a window open and set the damned hospital on fire. They knew. They knew his name and they were going to use it against him, with guilt trips and then with manipulation, like how they always did. 

“Do I have a choice?”

The counsellor looked a little nonplussed for a second, before the same bright smile breaks out on his face. 

“Of course you do, Ming Sheng! Omegas are awfully free and liberated in today’s society you know? You have a choice on what you want to do to a limited extent, so much more than back in the day! Its far more liberating that in the old days, you can even go out without a veil!” 

“Without a…veil?”

“Oh, pardon me. You’re still probably a bit new to this whole Omega thing and I’m sorry I didn’t take the liberties on explaining everything. When you’re an Omega there are some rules you have to follow. Nothing too restrictive, just a little bit different than what you’re used to. For instance, you’ll have to make sure to keep it in your pants and make sure you take good care of your Alpha, don’t worry, he’ll take care of you well! Since you’ve gone unbonded for so long we’ll have to find someone to take you in, but you have such gorgeous tanned skin – I’m sure you’ll be the apple of everyone’s eye. Oh and you have to make sure you…” 

The counsellor’s words drowned out in the cacophony of mindless static as Ming Sheng looked out into the window. Lost in his own thoughts, Ming Sheng started to count the birds outside – one, then two of them landing on the birdbath outside, seemingly mocking him with their freedom. Caged, trapped and holed up inside a hospital room all by his lonesome, Ming Sheng was left with nothing but his thoughts to himself. Painful, but it kept him from thinking about Bean, kept him grounded. 

“Hello? Ming Sheng? I’m afraid you’ll have to pay attention here. This bit is important.” 

Ming Sheng turned to face him, a look of empty recognition on his face.

“Right, so as I was saying, you’ll be heading to the School for Wayward Omegas soon after your milk dries up, which will be in a few days give or take. There you’ll learn more about Omegas and what your unique combination of physiology entails and how you can best adapt to your new life. I know change is stressful, but these changes are only here to help, not to harm. You’ll be learning a lot, and Omega brains aren’t the most adapted to work in the business sphere. The realms of home, childrearing and childcare will suit you far, far better Eliza.”

“Can I just go back to the academy and become a mech pilot?”

A sigh, then a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. To Ming Sheng it didn’t feel gentle, and he tried to shrug it off. 

“Ming Sheng, this is your new life now. You’ll learn to do so many things, things that actually suit our natural biology and physiology. We don’t try to force a square peg into a round hole, do we? I know it’s a real shock to you given how you’ve lived up till now, but trust me, this is for your own good. Things will change and for the better. Soon you’ll wonder why you ever left to become a mech pilot and you’ll learn to love being a wife and a mother. So, give it a chance won’t you, Eliza?”

Ming Sheng said nothing, kept looking at the birds out the window. 

“At least think about it, Ming Sheng. Your new life will be so wonderful. You won’t have to worry about being roughed up or dying in a mech explosion anymore, but you’ll have all you could ever want, a provider and a protector, all the clothes and makeup you could ever dream of. Isn’t that great?”

Still no reply from Ming Sheng.

“Perhaps you’d like some time to yourself. I’ll come back in a few hours and we can talk about your new living arrangements in the school, alright? Promise you’ll like it.” And with a reassuring squeeze to Ming Sheng’s shoulder, he was out. 

A new life. One freed of being a mech pilot, of running around happily and taking naps in the grassy fields outside. Lying on a gilded mattress in a gold cage, a slave to the Alpha who’d claimed him, the thought sent shivers down Ming Sheng’s spine.

None of this, none of this was what he wanted. 

Slowly, the tears began to fall, greater in intensity this time as Ming Sheng curled up on himself, his heart aching once more with unspent anguish. He didn’t want to be some housewife to an Alpha, he didn’t want to recline on chaise lounges, sip wine and gossip, he wanted to be free like the birds looking out his window! 

Resentment, anger, fear… all of it gave way to the crippling hole inside of him. Groaning, Ming Sheng’s sobs grew to great big heaves of sorrow, letting out nearly all the pent-up emotion in him. Ming Sheng, bringer of bad fucking luck, stuck in the middle of a rock and a hard place once again, this time thrown to the wolves and shredded into a million pieces with nothing left to pick the pieces up with. His shoulders shook with great, heaving sobs as he cried on the bed, digging his hands into his hair. 

He missed it all, his previous life as a mech pilot, dating Kieran and running around with reckless abandon. Abandoned now, left with nothing but a lifetime of rigid etiquette, rank-ism and trapped in a gilded cage. Most of all, he missed Bean, torn from the warm confines of his womb and left to die in his arms, splattered in blood. 

God his heart ached, a pain like no other as he laid on the cream-colored mattress crying. He just wanted his old life back, not to be stolen into this mess of a world where his rights didn’t matter and he was just a baby factory to be passed around.


End file.
